The Makings of a Modern World
by JamesLuver
Summary: When Lady Mary bobs her hair, Anna wonders if she should do the same, and asks John for his opinion.


**A/N:** Series five fic, though it disregards the series five spoilers we've had. Fluff to combat the inevitable angst and heartbreak.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

><p><span><em>The Makings of a Modern World<em>

Lady Mary's new hairstyle sent ripples throughout the entire house. Never one to cower from the modernisation of fashion, the young woman had not cared one whit about anyone else's opinion on the matter, from her father's spluttering indignity to her grandmother's jibes.

Downstairs, the news was equally scandalous. Mr. Carson's horror could not be contained at such a turn of events, but several of the younger maids looked on in admiration, exchanging opinions on what styles that _they _would like to go for.

"What do you think of it?" John asked her one night. Anna sat in front of her vanity, braiding her own hair with contemplative slowness, but she blinked at the sound of her husband's voice, raising her eyes to his in the mirror.

"I think it suits her," she said. "It angles her face nicely."

"Ever the lady's maid," her husband teased.

"Well, it's true. She's not the first woman to do it. They were wearing boy's cuts in France after the end of the war. But it _does_ suit her. Brings out the line of her jaw. I'm sure certain men will appreciate that. And it's a lot less work for me, I can tell you. No more curling and braiding and complicated styles. Now I just shape it, pop in a few pins, and I'm all done."

"I can certainly see why you would appreciate it," he said. "And I have to admit that you're right. It does add a certain charm to her."

"Why, Mr. Bates," she said playfully, "were you admiring her?"

His chest swelled with vexation. "Certainly not. There's only one woman for me."

"I have to admit, I am very glad about that."

"Come over here. Perhaps I'll show you how much."

She cast him a smile, crawling up the bed towards him. He'd opened his arms for her and she was more than glad to slip into his embrace, pillowing her head against his chest.

It had taken them a long time to reach this point once more. For a horrible time, Anna had wondered if she would ever want her husband to touch her in that way again, had shrunk back at the mere thought of that physical contact. But John had never pushed, leaving everything on her terms. They had rebuilt the foundations of their relationship first, on friendship and mutual trust, before slowly but surely re-erecting the pillars of their former life. Their first few times had been shy and fumbling, as if they had never done it before. But it had got better with time and practice, and the reclamation of their past happiness made the rest of it fall into place. The teasing quips. The flirting. Almost two years on from that awful night, Anna could finally say she was content.

John nuzzled against her as she anchored her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to her hair. Anna smoothed her palm down the front of his pyjamas, revelling in his little sigh.

Hands still moving idly, she said, "Maybe I should cut my hair too."

John paused his actions at once, easing back. "What?"

"Well, what do you think? It would be a lot simpler, and a lot less messing for me too."

"No doubt Mr. Carson would be utterly outraged," John murmured, and she giggled. "Can you imagine? It's bad enough that one of the young women has taken such a daring decision, never mind the servants following suit."

"You men don't understand the irritations of a woman's hair," she argued. "You comb a bit of pomade through and you're done."

"And the pomade has been cut down significantly over the last few years, Mrs. Bates," he murmured, and she felt the curve of his smile against her cheek as he kissed her. She pinked a little, slapping him.

"Hush, you," she said. "In all seriousness, what do you think to the idea?"

"My darling, it's entirely up to you. Like you said, you're the one who has to put up with it."

"Do you think it would suit me?" she pressed.

"You look lovely no matter what you do," he said sincerely, and she rolled her eyes, unable to contain her own fond smile. She could have pranced around in the most hideous of paper bags, and John would still look at her with those adoring eyes and insist that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I think I'll give it some thought," she said. "After all, there are so many practical reasons." She began ticking them off on her fingers. "I won't get nearly as many knots, it won't take half as long to brush at night, I won't have to bother with buns during the day…"

"Very practical," John agreed, though he didn't seem altogether invested in the conversation; he had turned his soft attentions to the side of her neck. She wriggled, trying to keep focused.

"I can't think of any reason why it would be a bad idea," she said. "Can you?"

"Not really, no," he murmured between kisses. "Perhaps just a few selfish ones."

She tilted her head to the side despite herself, giving him more access. Her pulse had started to increase, especially when his tongue tickled the sensitive skin. "And what might those be?"

He didn't answer for several seconds, evidently preoccupied with covering as much of the area with his mouth as he could.

"John?"

With a sigh, he pulled away reluctantly, evidently realising that she wasn't going to give up her line of questioning so easily.

"What are these selfish reasons against me cutting my hair?"

"I would have thought that they were obvious," he said.

"Well, they're not. Please, enlighten me."

He shrugged, releasing his hold on her. She was disappointed for a moment, until he grasped her hips and tugged her onto his lap. She squealed a bit, bracing her hands against his shoulders.

"John, your knee," she said.

"My knee is fine. Aren't you more interested in my selfish reasons against you cutting your hair?"

"I suppose so," she sighed. He rewarded her answer with a kiss as his hands snaked around her back.

"For one," he said, "I couldn't do this."

So slowly, he pinched the end of the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger, and gave it a tug. Anna felt it loosen at once. She held her breath. With precise movements, his eyes never leaving hers, John pulled the tie loose from the end of her hair.

"And then I couldn't do this," he whispered.

Her eyelids fluttered as he brought both of his hands up to her hair, meticulously unravelling it from the braid she had knotted it into only minutes before. His fingers felt wonderful, his touch light and sure, the tips kneading at her scalp slightly as he worked. He was careful not to pull too hard – that was one thing she just couldn't handle anymore – and if he came across any tangles than he would proceed with caution, doing his utmost to comb through them so he didn't cause her any pain.

"Then there's this."

Anna's breath was coming faster now. He'd moved his hands to the front, his thumbs tracing over her cheekbones before caressing the lobes of her ears and lacing through strands of her hair as he brought her towards him.

"I could still do this," he murmured, his lips grazing her skin as he spoke, "but it wouldn't quite be the same."

She trembled as his mouth met hers, the kiss chaste but lingering with the promise of more.

"They're certainly excellent points," she gasped when he pulled away.

"And that's not the end," he said lightly.

"Then please, continue, Mr. Bates," she whispered.

He nodded. With measured movements, he began to sink back into the mattress, leaving her towering above him on his lap. She watched him with eager eyes, waiting for what he was going to say or do next.

She wasn't disappointed. His fingers roamed to his shirt. He began to slip the buttons loose. It was better than she'd been expecting. Drinking in the sight of him hungrily, she waited while he slipped his arms free, helping him to tug the material from under him and casting it into some corner of the room to be forgotten about. John settled himself back down, his hands coming to a rest on her hips.

"When we're together like this," he said huskily, "when you lean down, your hair tickles me."

The unspoken invitation was there. She took him up on it, bending her head down to capture his mouth. She felt the shudder that ran through him as the very ends of her hair tantalised his bare skin. He kissed her more fiercely, his tongue moving out to swipe against her lower lip. She opened up happily, sinking her fingers deep into his hair, using it as leverage to pull him up to her. His hands were not idle, hitching up her nightgown. They parted long enough to tug the nightgown over her head before they were pressed together again. John's hands were everywhere in her hair, massaging her scalp and weaving the strands through his fingers. She couldn't stop her purr of contentment, tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth as she pulled him into a deeper kiss. Her hair flowed over his skin. She had never truly noticed the exquisite trembling in his body as she moved lower and lower and –

His loud groan echoed around the room. She smiled as the end of her hair tickled his thighs. Perhaps this was a very good point in favour of keeping it just the way it was.

* * *

><p>Afterwards, they lay tangled together in a heap. Anna was curled in front of her husband's strong body. His arms held her tightly around her waist. Her skin sparked every time it brushed against his, the wiry sensation of his chest hair electrifying. She caught his hand, brought it to her lips so that she could kiss his knuckles. Behind her, John sighed sleepily.<p>

"That was very nice," he said.

She giggled. "Very nice indeed, Mr. Bates. And you certainly gave me a lot of positives to think about when it comes to my hair."

"Glad I could be of service. I like it when it's all dishevelled afterwards," he said, but his voice had gone gravelly with drowsiness. He would not be with her much longer. He shifted a little, evidently trying to get more comfortable.

And he pressed his face into the back of her head, heedless of the hair that fanned everywhere over the pillow. Soon, he began to snore, but Anna lay awake, relishing the feel of his body tangled with hers, fondly thinking that perhaps he had given her another inadvertent reason to keep her hair exactly as it was.

* * *

><p>"So, Anna, have you given cutting your hair any more thought since you last spoke to me?"<p>

Lady Mary was eyeing her interestedly through the mirror as she busied herself with the little ornaments that were to be slipped into her mistress' own locks.

"I did," she said, picking up a tiny, delicate wire flower to pin her hair back from her ear.

"And?"

"And I've decided that I'm going to leave my hair like this."

"Really? You seemed to be considering it hard. I really do think it's the way forward now for women, the making of our modern world, to let the men know that we mean business."

Only Lady Mary would compare cutting her hair to the extremities that some women went through for equal rights. Still, Anna hid her secretive smile. She recalled the phantom feeling of John's hands sifting through her hair as if it was precious silk, the way it had engulfed him in their passion, the way that he had groaned breathlessly and raked his hands through it as he neared the height of his pleasure, the way he had squirmed as it had teased his bare skin.

The way it had been, afterwards, with her husband boyishly pressing his face into her hair to sleep, his breath ghosting her neck. If she cut her hair, she would lose all of those precious moments.

"Anna?"

"I was considering it, milady," she said carefully, answering her mistress' questioning look. "But although the world is changing for us…" She paused to throw her a bashful smile. "…I think there are some things that I would quite like to keep the same."


End file.
